When Wishes Come True
by Samantha Bridges
Summary: Sequel to 'Wishing it Was'. Lindsey has a new life and a new man in it, but Clarice is convinced that Lindsey is blind to what, and who, he really is.
1. Chapter One

_A/N- Well, here it is, the final installment of my Clarice trilogy. AS always, neither Clarice nor Dr, Lecter belong to me, I am simply borrowing them for this romp. Lindsey is mine, however. Enjoy, dear ones._

_**When Wishes Come True**_

_Chapter One_

The late afternoon sunlight glowed tangerine through the frosted glass panes that rose above the tub, slanting their glow across the sterile white tile of the bathroom. A dark blue silk robe lay pooled on the floor in the light. There was the sound of the last of the bath water gurgling down the drain as a single foot was planted in the deep plush of the math mat. A fluffy white towel that smelled faintly of lavender was taken from its place and wrapped around the body that followed the first foot. A Pair of good hard ankles waded through the puddle of silk as their owner went to the mirror, a hand coming up to wipe away the condensation.

Through the fog a face appeared. Delicate features, high cheekbones flushed with the heat of the late afternoon soak. Her lips are rosy and she reaches down to grab an ever present tube of lip balm which is promptly swiped across her lips. She admires her face for a moment in the looking glass, peering for any blemishes, then pushes her wet hair back from the edges of her face. Small droplets of water escape the absorbency of the towel and fall to splash against the white tile floor. She takes the paddle brush from the counter and runs it through thick auburn hair, carefully detangling and humming to herself all the while. Lost in her ritual she does not see the pair of eyes watching her reflection in the mirror, or the smile that accompanies the appreciative gaze.

She finishes her routine about thirty minutes later and emerges from the bathroom, hair tucked into a loose bun secured with a velvet scrunchie, a few tendrils falling loose to lay at the nape of her neck. The loose drawstring pants and T-shirt she now wears are a similar blue to the robe that still lies on the bathroom floor. She smiles as she comes into the hall, looking across into the study of her companion for the time being. He looks up from the papers he is pushing through on his desk and returns her smile, his eyes hidden behind a stylish pair of lenses that are smoked in the lower half. With silent communication he bids her entreaty to his study and she obliges him, feet padding lightly on the solid oak floors. She bestows a kiss upon his lips, brushing quickly as she balances herself with a hand on the back of the rich leather office chair. She stands before him a moment, smiling slightly, hand still resting on the chair, before stepping from the room and leaving him to his own thoughts once more. His eyes followed her shapely backside as it exited through the doorway and he considered. In other realms and times men such as him would have called a woman such as her a goddess.

His goddess.

But not quite.

His almost goddess had a hard background, growing up in a home in Amarillo that didn't quite reach the middle class line, but didn't drop into poverty either. Momma was a seamstress, Daddy was often gone working on the road. She had never been sure what her father's job was, and it didn't matter much now that the earth held him in its womb. She had clawed her way into college, becoming the first in her family to do so, and set forth to accomplish her goal of getting out of this dump. Many would call her a redneck, and in certain circles, even after she had been accepted to college in Austin, she would always be referred to as tornado bait trailer camp trash. Any of the insults flung at her in either a whisper behind her back or directly to her face only added to her veneer. She'd learned early in her life the effect those blue eyes could have when narrowed on the offender and her chin set hard. Later in life she would be called the Ice Queen, and would always be thought of as a cold, cold woman.

But he knew her better. She'd graduated in the top five of her class at the University of Texas, with her psychology degree. She'd wanted to prove the naysayers wrong and show them what a true Texas woman could do. She had confessed to him after a long and pleasurable night that the first day she stepped into the hallowed halls of Quantico she had almost turned around and ran out. But in the end, she set her chin, narrowed her eyes, and threw herself at everything set before her. By the time her days of a trainee were over her name was engraved on the Possible Board, she had proven herself to be one of the sharpest minds to come out of that class, and she had found herself a new woman to look up to.

How our lives seem to intertwine so easily.

There was no lack of serial killers to be hunted at that time, but Crawford the Stoic had not seen it fit to use a trainee to his advantage once again during those years. Besides, he had finally accomplished his mission to get his chosen hound into his pack. Clarice Starling had finally followed into the footsteps of the last greatest profiler before her, Will Graham, and had her desk in the buried belly of Behavioral Sciences. Although he knew she would never admit it, he had finally given her what she had always desired: advancement. And he had done it once again from within the confines of a cell. But as the tides come in, they must go out again, and he had craved his freedom once again. Which eventually had led him here. Like star-crossed lovers they stumbled into one another's lives again, but he didn't take her into his arms this time.

This time he chose someone else.

He heard a whistle as the French doors leading to the back yard were opened and then, a few moments later, the skittering of nails on the hardwood floors. He could hear her in the kitchen pantry, opening the large tin reserved there for dog biscuits. The nails skittered towards the front hall and he heard a short, sharp bark. Her footsteps followed and then the sound of the front door opening and slamming shut. He rose and went to the window, watching her as she and the black greyhound took off up the street at a quick jog. The sinking sun glowed off her hair and he smiled. He was glad to have her in his life.

.-.-.-.

She turned from the window and the last fading glows of sunset. The clouds were beginning to rush in on the city and she faintly remembered the newscaster on the radio saying something about the possibility of snow. Just what she needed. She had been trapped in this hollow shell of a house for three days so far, and she needed a change. If it snowed enough, she wouldn't get that change. She couldn't decide whether or not that was a good thing.

It was her first vacation in a dozen years, a dozen years she had given up in pursuit of supposed justice at the hallowed FBI. She finally had her desk in the buried womb of Behavioral Sciences in Quantico. During her first week there she had passed by Crawford's old office, and peered inside through the window. It had been occupied by someone new, and most traces of his presence had been removed. A few things had remained, including the corkboard that had been tacked with all the articles on Buffalo Bill. It had been eerie to see her own picture among the collage, taken as she came out the door after shooting Jame Gumb, and she was slightly surprised that she had never noticed it before. The man occupying the office now was Jack's successor, and Clarice hadn't had much contact with him, and he was happy to leave her be at her cramped office down the hall.

The memories tickled through her brain, a pack of hounds racing through the mists in pursuit of a fox they could smell but not see. She leaned her forehead against the window pane, wincing from the shock of the sudden cold on warm skin. She closed her eyes as she pictured the fox she was hunting, pictured the last time she had seen him. Spotlighted on the television by the lights of the police helicopter, red dirt in a spinning dervish around him from the rotor wash as he held the prone woman in his arms. She had watched that tableaux many, many times as she was laying in a hospital bed in Colorado. Three years past and it was still as vivid as yesterday. And current circumstances were bringing those memories to the forefront once more.

She'd kept in touch with Lindsey after she had left the FBI. Letters were exchanged around the major holidays and random pictures came over e-mail and with those letters. The first ones were of Lindsey, usually by herself; hiking, at some fund raiser and the like.

And then he had appeared.

Clarice forced herself to open her eyes and to look away from the window. Back on her desk was the photo that had started it all over again. She hadn't said a thing to her bosses or comrades at Behavioral Sciences. The picture sat on the desk, the subjects smiling at her, both charming, but she couldn't help but feel that he was taunting her with his. It was cut neatly from the Lifestyles section of the Denver Post, and included a caption beneath the black and white photograph.

_Dr. Gregory Orbinson of Boulder and Lindsey Singleton, also of Boulder._

Below that was a quick paragraph detailing the event they were there to sponsor, and names of other socialites that had attended. As soon as she had received the clipping from Lindsey Clarice had shoved it deep in a drawer, quietly telling herself that she was not seeing what was there before her. The photograph drew her in and she pulled it from the drawer numerous times until the tickle became too much for her to stand. Nights spent here in the guest bedroom/ office of her side of the duplex, nights spent hunched over an assortment of photographs of Lindsey and her new beau, studying them, taking notes. Nights spent searching through online resources, making good use of her unlimited Internet access and giving her an incredible neck cramp. So many long nights, and they had all lead up to this.

Next to the stack of photographs was a ticket envelope from United Airlines, and within it held the passageway for Clarice's destiny. Still, she sat here at the desk, weighing the consequences of her planned undertaking. Ardelia was the only one who knew she was leaving for Colorado in the morning, under the guise of visiting Lindsey, which wasn't exactly a lie. Clarice knew that she would have no jurisdiction on this if she were to choose to hunt for him and try to do what she had done once before. She knew that she had no standing, and no right to intrude upon his life.

Somehow she convinced herself it was for Lindsey's sake. It was incredibly wrong for a former FBI agent to be shacked up with one of the men on the Ten Most Wanted list. It was unjustifiable, no matter what emotions they claimed to possess for one another. He was a murderer, she was a person of morals and justice. And it didn't matter at all that Clarice had almost gone with the same man some years before.

It didn't matter at all.

.-.-.-.


	2. Chapter Two

_Chapter Two_

Clarice eyed the brown landscape below her from the tiny window she was given on the Boeing 777 as it descended towards her destination. The plane swung into final approach and her stomach lurched again as a gust of wind bounced the plane once again. Turbulence coming into Denver was not uncommon, making for a roller coaster style ride on the worst of days. Today was not one of those days, but she had still had a bouncy ride as she had come in from Chicago. Now her view looked out on the nearing airport, its white spires thrusting up into the air. Denver International Airport reminded Clarice strongly of a circus tent, and it was a sentiment echoed by many, both in Colorado and out. There was thump as the landing gear came down, disrupting the airstream and adding drag. She was behind the wing and could watch as the flaps came out, slowing the aircraft further as it continued to descend. It swept over E-470 and the cars below looked less like ants. Clarice pressed her head back into the headrest and closed her eyes, waiting out the descent. She didn't open them until she felt the tires touch down on the runway, and felt the plane shudder as it dramatically slowed. She looked out her window now at the acres of runway that surrounded her, and the brown grass whipping in the March wind. On the intercom, the captain was welcoming them to Denver International Airport, local time of 1:47 PM and a temperature of 59 degrees with winds out of the south at about seven miles per hour. All in all a nice day.

The passengers about the coach cabin began to unbuckle their seat belts, stretching and reaching for bags stowed under the seats in front of them. Under the stern watch of the flight attendants no one rose as the United flight made its way to the gate. Clarice unbuckled her belt and stretched her legs out in front of her, then leaned forward to retrieve the laptop she had stowed there during the flight. She hadn't touched it the entire time, after she and the rest of the passengers had received a lecture about having their portable electronics confiscated and the possibility of crashing the plane. Clarice had doubts about her turning on the cell phone in her pocket or the laptop actually crashing the plane, but the speech had been enough to convince her to behave. It wouldn't do her any good if she were to arrive in Colorado by greeting the soil up close and personal.

As she held the computer in her lap she watched the aircraft near a building with Jetways protruding from it at various interval. Now the lead flight attendant was on the intercom, telling them that they'd be arriving at gate 22C and giving the gate locations of various connecting United flights. Concourse C was the third concourse at DIA and Clarice was trying to recall the layout in her mind. The lumbering jet finally pulled up to its appointed gate and came to a stop. Most of the cabin was out of their seats and opening the overhead bins before the Captain could give his little Thank you speech. Clarice waited in her seat until the passenger next to her was up and into the aisle. She smiled absently at a young mother in the row across from her who was looking nervously about the cabin, clutching the hand of her little girl. Clarice shuffled her way into the aisle and tugged her single bag from the compartment, careful not to hit herself or anyone else in the head with it. Pulling out the handle she trundled it along behind her as she made her way to the front of the plane. A flight attendant wished her a good day, barely even looking at Clarice.

Up the Jetway and into the concourse, a marvel of chrome and polished steel everywhere. She pushed her way past families hugging loved ones and made it to one of the moving sidewalks that ran the length of the concourse. A quick glance at the signs informed her that she was headed in the proper direction for the trains. DIA is connected by trains that run underground, connecting each of the separate concourses and the terminal. She wound her way down the escalators to the train platform and waited with a small crowd for the next train. Its arrival was announced by a not quite pleasant female voice that told the crowd to stand back from the doors. It was easy enough to get on and press herself against one wall, holding onto a slick metal pole with one hand and her bag with the other. She swayed slightly as the train took off and gained speed., but then balanced herself as the speed became a constant. Two stops later, for concourses B and A, and she was deposited into the terminal. Bypassing the baggage claim, she had only brought along the carry-on, laptop, and purse, and she was headed up another set of escalators to the main level. Metal models of paper airplanes hovered above her head and she idly wondered what kind of damage on of those could inflict if it were to ever fall.

Out of the escalators and into the sprawling inside of the circus tents. Another glance at the sings gave her directions to the car rental agency desks. She pushed through her purse with one hand, feeling for the confirmation she had printed and her Hertz card. Ten minutes later, her life signed away to the rental gods, and a map of metro Denver in hand, she was shuttled out to the parking lot, where her car stood waiting. There were perks to having the damn gold card, and she appreciated it this time. Waiting under an awning, with her name spelled out in amber LEDs above, was a bright blue Mustang, the trunk open and awaiting her deposit. She hefted the suitcase into it and laid the laptop next to it gently. She slammed the trunk shut and admired the rear end view for a moment. If it handled well she might have to get one when she returned to DC. The Roush, as much as she liked it, was getting up in miles and she couldn't give it the attention it deserved, not like she used to. Besides, she could get a fair sum for it from an enthusiast. The Mustang, it was a GT she noted belatedly, started with a nice quiet roar and she looked over the instruments. Thirty-five minutes after first touching down in Colorado, Clarice was headed towards Boulder, and the undesirable task that lay ahead.  
.-.-.-.

Lindsey exhaled as she sat up and blew a loose strand of hair out of her eyes. She could feel a trickle of sweat making its way down the back of her neck and she sighed. There was the clang of weights in the background behind her, over the pulsing bass of Motley Crue's 'Kickstart my Heart'. She had been ordered to complete another rep of crunches on the exercise ball while her trainer went to answer a phone call. She took a deep breath as she began to lower herself back again, feeling the ball move slightly under her. Lin was wary of the exercise ball, and had continued to assure Mark, her trainer, that one day it would shoot out from under her, leaving her laying on the floor. Mark had laughed at her and ordered her to get on it anyhow. She closed her eyes and was about to begin the next crunch when a shadow crossed her face. She was scowling even before she looked up to see who it was.

"Hey, Lin. You jus' keep lookin' better and better every time I see you." the owner of her voice was staring pointedly at Lindsey's blue sports bra and she knew it was pointless to ask him to stop looking.

"Hello, Jeff." she deadpanned. Here eyes narrowed and she cleared her throat. His gaze moved to meet hers and he smiled in a manner which he probably thought to be charming. Lindsey thought it just made him look more like the ape he was. "Could you move? I'm trying to workout here." He edged back a couple of inches, just enough to give her clearance as she took a deep breath, ready to begin where she had left off. Jeff wouldn't give her the chance.

"You don't need to work out, you're fine just the way you are." he leered at her, that smile still on her face as he bent at the knees so he was at eye level with her. Lindsey held her breath, waiting for him to leave. He lowered his voice so he was barely audible over the bassline pounding through the speakers. "And besides, that old geezer you're with doesn't care as long as you give him a good fuck, which I'm sure you do." He was oblivious to the anger that was sparking in her narrowed eyes, much as he was unaware that she was rising from the ball.

"Shut the hell up, Jeff." she snapped, the ball rolling away from the suddenness of her actions. A few pairs of eyes turned in their direction, and Lindsey could hear the gossip that would circulate. Damn the gossips, she was sick of this asshole insulting Gregory.

"Did I say something that bothered you, Lin?" he asked, feigned innocence in his voice and face. "C'mon, you know what I say is true. Think of what _I_ could offer you." he reached out with his right hand, intending to brush hair back from her face. He didn't get that far.

Lindsey moved quickly trapping his arm and forgoing the other two moves of what her karate instructor had called 'Monkey stealing peaches'. She had no qualms as she reached between his legs, seized what was quite evident through his Spandex shorts, and wrenched it. The smile and everything else was gone from Jeff's face as she did so, his eyes bulging and a squeak coming from his lips. As quickly as she had reacted she released him, watching the six foot two real estate broker crumple to the floor. Mark was practically running in her direction, along with a few other gym employees. Lin looked up at them and watched in silence as they helped Jeff to his feet.

"You fucking bitch!" he gasped, glaring at her through the pained expression on his face.

"You've been warned to leave her alone, Jeff. Guess you shoulda listened." Mark replied, crossing his large arms across his equally large chest.

Another glare was leveled on Mark as Jeff limped away with the assistance of the other gym employees. Lin met her trainer's eyes, trying hard not to smile. His face was stern but his eyes glittered with amusement. "I think you've had enough of a workout for the day." She nodded and grabbed her water bottle, which had been knocked over by the exercise ball as it had escaped. Mark hadn't left, but was still standing there, looking slightly bemused.

"What?" she asked, a drop of water escaping from the corner of her mouth.

"Remind me not to make you mad, Lin."

She laughed. It felt good to release the tension. "You're a big boy, Mark. I think you could take me down. 'Sides, Susie wouldn't like it if I damaged the goods." she winked at him as he stood there laughing. She threw a glance at the clock on the wall and began moving towards the women's locker rooms. "See ya Thursday, Mark."  
.-.-.-.

The cell phone was in its charger in the car, the LCD screen illuminated and the indicator light flashing as Lindsey approached. She thumbed the key fob and threw her bag into the trunk, only to be greeted by the chirp of her ringing phone. Biting back a curse she slammed the trunk shut and dashed forward to pull open the driver's door, grabbing the phone and punching the talk button.

"Hello?" she asked to the silence that greeted her. She'd missed the call. She tossed the phone across into the passenger seat and slid into the drivers seat. The leather was buttery soft and warm from the fall sun. No sooner had she started the vehicle, the cell phone lit up again and chirped twice, announcing the presence of a new voice mail message. As she grabbed it again and dialed into her voicemail she permitted herself a smile. Perhaps it was Gregory suggesting a late lunch.

No such luck.

There was a buzz of static laced through the message, and the underlying thrum of an engine. And an all too familiar voice she hadn't heard in about a year.

"Lindsey, its Clarice Starling. I know its rather late notice, but I'm out here for a few days, thought I could stop by. Just ring me back on my cell. Hope we can get in touch, I need to discuss some things with you. Bye."

Lindsey tapped the indicated button to save the message and then ended the call, tossing it lightly back onto the passenger seat. An innocent call, nothing more from the sound of the message, but the shear fact that Clarice was back here in Colorado with no notice drudged up a suspicion Lindsey had long buried. As she steered back to the home she shared with Gregory up in the foothills of Boulder, she suddenly wished she didn't have to go home to him tonight.  
.-.-.-.


	3. Chapter Three

_Chapter Three_

It had been a long drive through mid-day traffic to get from Boulder to the center of Denver. She waited as traffic rushed by on southbound Colorado Boulevard watching for an opening as the signal indicator beat out a steady rhythm of the bass note of the idling engine. Her chance appeared and she took it, wheeling the agile muscle car into the park's entrance, immediately slowing as she encountered a family crossing the road. It was warm enough on this early spring day, and many people were out taking advantage of the weather, knowing that the crisp breeze held more than a promise of the coming change. Following the curve of the road to a point where she could turn again, this time easing the low slung vehicle into the dark depths of the underground parking garage. The engine boomed off the concrete walls as she shed the sunglasses, letting her eyes adjust as she searched for a parking space. Finding one by the stirs she parked, cutting the engine, and finding herself assaulted by the sudden and relative silence. Glasses and cellphone tucked into the Prada handbag she now carried. Her fingers lingered a moment on the soft leather before she exited the car. _He_ had given this to her on her last birthday, insisting she use it and that it was not some outlandish indulgence, and if it were, who better to indulge her than himself? Lindsey felt a smile at the memory before a sigh wiped it away as the brewing troubles resurrected themselves in her mind. And she was out of the car, slamming the door behind her and thumbing the key fob to lock the doors before she ascended the nearby stairs.

The sunshine made her blink, and the breeze tugging at her hair made her shiver. Or was it something else that caused the tremor? Giving it no more thought, not here, not now, she quickly crossed to the tinted glass doors and entered the museum. Ever since coming to Denver, Lindsey had treated herself to a membership pass to the Nature and Science museum, having found it was one of the best places for her to collect her thoughts. She smiled absently at the clerk who took her card, looked it over, then issued her her ticket. Out of the queue and towards the smiling soul who was taking the tickets. She declined the offer of a map, knowing precisely where she was headed. The museum was fairly quiet, most of the park's visitors being next door at the zoo. She took the escalator up and headed for the wildlife halls. There, in amongst the displays of arctic wildlife, she sat on a bench, looking at an arctic fox, and her reflection in the cool glass.  
.-.-.-.

The soreness in throughout her back and shoulders told her she had been sitting too long. Standing and stretching she admitted to herself that she had come to no good conclusion about what to do next. Clarice was jumping at shadows, chasing imaginations, and nothing more than that. Lindsey was as familiar with the case file of Dr. Hannibal Lecter as anyone who had not directly worked the case could be. Not to mention that the man had saved her life on that hot summer night. But, that didn't mean she owed him any favors. No, if she were to face the man again, she would still uphold the morals that she'd been ingrained with and would have no hesitations in delivering him to the authorities. None. And besides the epicurean tastes, there was nothing to tie Gregory with that... that... monster.

_Who saved your life._

Lin shook her head to clear the pressing thought and headed out of the display hall. It was nearing closing time, and the museum was quieter than before. She could hear the low heels she wore click on the floor as she headed for the escalators once more. Down, and her stomach sank more than it should have. A cold sensation was beginning to form there, and she didn't like it one bit. As she came off the escalators something caught her attention and sh e slowed, looking to her right. A tall thin man was standing over by the insect display, and her feet carried her in his direction.

'Dr. Pilcher?' She asked, her head tipping to one side, trying to look around at the man before he turned. A smile broke her face when he did turn and she was right in her name. He too broke into a smile at seeing her.

'Lindsey! Good to see you, what are you doing here?'

'Escaping the rigors of daily life.' she shrugged. 'I never see you out here, you're usually tucked away in your office.' She'd met Dr. Pilcher at a one of the fund raisers for the museum last summer, one of the many fund raisers she'd attended with Gregory. She shivered.

'One has to emerge every once in a while lest the common folk begin to think I'm a vampire or something.' he laughed, and beckoned her to come closer to the open case he standing in front of. 'Normally something I'd do after hours, but, it was quiet enough to have security keep the people away from me. Look.' Delicately, Dr. Pilcher was lifting a moth. Dry dusty colors and something that tugged at Lindsey's mind.

'What is it?' she asked, her voice hushed.

'Acherontia atropa. Or, if you like, the Death's Head moth. Named because of the markings here.' A delicate pointing with his free pinkie finger. Lindsey took in a deep breath. Pilcher didn't seem to notice. 'Funny that the museum didn't have one on display sooner, I swear everywhere I went had one after all the hub-bub.'

Lindsey nodded automatically, unsure of what to say next. Pilcher didn't make it any easier to think.

'Wonder what happened to that agent. Did you know Agent Starling, Lindsey? I know you worked in the FBI at one point...'

'I did. I... I don't know what she's doing now. Probably keeping busy on the trail of one serial killer or another.' She forced a small laugh and a smile, then looked down at her watch. 'Pilch, I've gotta run otherwise Gregory's going to _kill_ me for being late for supper.'

'Right, and the museum's about to close anyway. I'll see you around, Lindsey. And if you ever hear from Agent Starling, tell her I said hi.' Lindsey nodded and gripped the strap of her handbag as she tried to walk calmly towards the museum's entrance. She passed under the looming shadow of the T-Rex that stood guard over the doors and rushed into the brisk evening, suddenly feeling stifled. It was still a fight not to run, but she continued at a good clip until she reached her car, safely locking herself within its confines. As Lin wheeled the car out into the late dusk she wondered what could happen next to catch her off guard.  
.-.-.-.

She was late for supper by the time she pulled into the garage of their foothills home. It seemed like the jaws of a monster slowly closing around her as the garage door descended. She sat in the soft leather seat of her 2001 Cobra Mustang, listening to the ticking of the cooling engine, not wanting to go inside. She felt safe here, safe in the steel womb of the muscle car. A present to herself, after refusing the supercharged Jaguar Gregory had offered her for a Christmas gift. That forced a quick inventory of her life and how much of her personal possessions had come from Gregory. Now with Clarice's implied suggestion, Lindsey found herself wondering more and more. Ten minutes passed without her notice and she finally conceded that she had to go inside and face the music. She undid her seatbelt and slipped fro the car. Slow steps carried her to the door into the mudroom where she shed her handbag and shoes. With a growing sense of dread, she opened the door into the house proper and headed for the kitchen.

'You're late.' there was a slight tone of disapproval in the voice that greeted her. Almost against her will, Lindsey half smiled in apology at the admonishment.

'Sorry, I got a bit caught up at the museum.'

'Ah, off to think again? About what, my dear?' Gregory was handed her a glass of wine he had just poured and waved a hand to the table that sat in the breakfast nook nearby.

'Just... thinking.' She sipped the wine and watched her companion come to join her, his own glass of wine in hand. Dr. Gregory Orbinson was definitely good looking for his age, slim and imperial looking, he had an aura about him. His carriage implied to one observing him that he was taller than he is, but there is nothing about him that suggests that he is short or weak. His dark hair was just beginning to silver in places, and he had storm dark eyes that pieced you. It frightened Lindsey sometimes to look into those eyes, knowing how deeply they looked into her. He pulled out the chair opposite her and sat, reaching over t lightly stroke her hand that sat on the table.

'You look stressed, Lindsey.'

She began 'Its nothing...' but stopped, reconsidering her reply. What harm could it do if she told him the truth? 'Actually, I received a call from an old partner.'

'Clarice?' his nostrils flared and his eyes widened a bit. Ever watchful, Lindsey noted the reaction. 'What did she want? To schedule a reunion?'

A sip of her wine helped steel Lindsey to go on. 'She wanted to talk to me about something important. I can;t think of anything that would cause her to fly out here with no notice to me.' She shook her head, finally beginning to convince herself that her thoughts all day long were crazy. She looked across at Gregory, who was still stroking her hand lightly with one finger, watching her. She could see nothing dangerous in those eyes or in his manner or in his face. How could Clarice ever think...

He smiled then, giving Lindsey's hand a squeeze. 'Maybe we should have her for dinner then, make her feel comfortable when she shares her 'something important', hmmm?' Lindsey had to smiled in return at him.

'Yes, dinner. That'd be nice.'

Gregory smiled and patted her hand. 'Its settled then. Call her in the morning and arrange it. For now, we have standing reservations at the Broker.' He rose, leaving his wine glass on the table, extending a hand to Lindsey and helping her from her chair. She eyed him coyly.

'That is _not_ your favorite place, Gregory. What do you have up your sleeve?'

'Nothing that you'll dislike, my dear.' He smiled charmingly and waved a hand towards the hallway she had entered by only a few minutes earlier. 'Shall we?'  
.-.-.-.


	4. Chapter Four

_A/N- Yes, I am still alive, no one appeared from my stories to cheesegrater me or eat me. The muse is just now attempting to make a return, and I apologize for the long wait on a new chapter and a continuation. Hopefully, I still have it._

_Chapter Four_

The water cascaded down Clarice's back, the low water pressure doing little to relieve her tight muscles from spending the day in various sitting positions. She titled her head back, stretching her neck, and closing her eyes. _Tomorrow_, she told herself, _ tomorrow I'll talk to Lindsey, tell her the truth. Convince her. _ Her hands rose to her head, massaging her scalp and the thought of seeing, _confronting_, Lindsey again into her head. She sighed, tipping her head forward again, letting the water work the back of her neck. There was a twinge of guilt, and Clarice momentarily hoped she was wrong about all of this. She didn't move from the stream of water, reaching down to the faucet handle to shut off the flow. As she stepped into the warm dampness of the bathroom, hugging a just-too-small towel around herself, Clarice hoped Lindsey would forgive her.  
.-.-.-.

Lindsey leaned up to brush a light kiss on Gregory's cheek as he removed his coat. He smiled at her, and watched appreciatively as she removed her shoes and headed up the staircase. He watched her ascent, then returned to the task of putting away his jacket in the closet. As he walked down the hall he could hear the water running upstairs as she drew a bath. The greyhound stood and stretched in its kennel as he approached the living room. He released it from its cage and followed it as it bolted for the back door. Gregory went to the kitchen counter where the bottle of wine he had opened earlier sat. He poured himself a glass, then went to sit at the table while waiting on the dog to finish its business.

His thoughts wound their way back to the news Lindsey had brought home with her. So, Clarice had caught the scent again, the ever-earnest coon-hound that followed him doggedly all these years. As he sipped his wine, he wondered if he would be willing to give it up this time; to give up his almost-goddess. Lindsey had willingly become everything he had wanted form Clarice, and without the troubles he'd been forced to undertake with his Starling. And all it had taken was soft spoken words, a few gifts and promises, a name change and some colored contacts. He chuckled, remembering that you do get further with honey than with vinegar. He tilted the glass, watching the wine swirl, wondering when was the last time he'd seen his own eyes. Another thought occurred to him- would it be worth losing Lindsey if he could possibly regain Clarice? Hmmm...

A solid bark from the back porch brought Gregory forth from his ruminations. The wine glass was rinsed out and set beside the sink before he let the massive black dog back inside. After receiving a biscuit, it obediently went back to its kennel and settled down. Gregory reached down and patted its head before closing the kennel door. 'Good boy, Sammie.' he said quietly as he did so. The house was softly silent and comfortable as he headed for the stairs, shutting off lights as he went. He left the study dark as he entered, settling into his leather chair. Eyes closed, he waited, listening as Lindsey eventually drained the tub and emerged, seeking him. Her hands moved over his shoulders from behind as she found him there, waiting for her. His gaze turned from contemplative to appreciative as he turned the chair to face her. Yes, there was much to take into consideration, but, for now, that could wait.  
.-.-.-.

Clarice slumped in a chair in her hotel room, exhausted from spending so much time sitting today, but too awake to retreat to bed. The curtains on the window were open, the lights of Boulder winking at her through the wind-whipped trees. She thought of Lindsey, no doubt asleep with the monster. Clarice didn't like the taste that brought to her mouth, and she couldn't pinpoint the odd feeling that was creeping up on her.

She waved a hand, involuntarily, as if brushing away a fly. Sighing, she looked to the sky through the window's reflected glare. The stars were shrouded by incoming clouds, hanging ominously there. The warm water of the shower was finally catching up to her as sleep began to sound like a better idea. The curtains drawn, leaving the room in darkness, Starling slipped under the covers. She couldn't help but wonder if Hannibal Lecter still thought some of their stars were the same.  
.-.-.-.

In the late darkness of the bedroom, Lindsey rolled over with a sigh, spooning up against the warm body under the covers. A brief smile fell on her lips before slipping away. Her arm ached, as it often did when the weather changed, but something else was causing the damp ache in her stomach. She pressed closer, hand closed tight around Gregory's arm, forehead against his shoulder as her dreams consumed her.  
.-.-.-.

'Lindsey, don't dawdle, your breakfast will get cold.'

Lindsey hurried down the hallway as fast as her stockinged feet would allow her on the hardwood. She'd surely get a reprimand if she came sliding into the kitchen. Gregory was there, setting a plate on the table at her place setting. He smiled softly as she came up to him. She went to the cabinet, getting herself a mug out and pouring a cup of coffee before sitting down. Gregory set his own plate down and settled opposite her.

Lindsey dug into her eggs, and caught herself staring at her companion in the morning sunlight. He didn't seem to notice her sudden interest in him. There was something different, something pinched in his features. Concern welled to the surface of Lindsey's thoughts.

'Gregory, are you feeling alright?' she lowered her fork, waiting for his reply.

He met her eyes for the first time since sitting down and smiled tiredly. 'I didn't sleep well last night, that's all. Nothing to worry about, Lindsey.'

Gregory sipped his orange juice, considering the matter closed, but Lindsey insisted on pursuing it further.

'Maybe you should take the day off. You have been working awfully hard lately, you and I could make a day of it, go to Denver, or...' He lowered the glass and his eyes hardened fractionally before he caught himself.

"I assure you, I am fine, Lindsey. Besides, you have plans with Clarice today, if I recall correctly.' The younger woman sighed, picking her fork back up and pushing her eggs across the plate. 'It'd be rude to ignore her after she flew all this way to see you.' he chided her gently, trying to soften his prior reaction.

Lindsey nodded, 'You're right.' she allowed. "I'm just overreacting, as usual.'

Gregory smiled genuinely as he finished his breakfast and rose from the table. As he cleared his plate, he looked down on Lindsey. She was staring into the depths of her coffee, like she was seeking her reflection in the bottom of a well. 'Lindsey,' she looked up at him, fork halfway between her lips and plate, eyes bright in the morning light, 'Don't always discount yourself, sometimes instinct is better relied upon.'

Lindsey finished her breakfast while Gregory gathered his things to leave for the office. She was clearing her dishes when he came back into the kitchen, wearing a dark wool overcoat and carrying his briefcase.

'Why don't you invite Agent Starling over for dinner this evening. We'll make it casual, maybe do something on the grill for her. It could prove interesting.' He wasn't surprised as Lindsey waited a beat too long before agreeing.

'That sounds nice, I'll ask her at lunch.' He nodded and was about to turn away to leave when she came to him, small hands reaching up to adjust and smooth down the collar of his coat. 'I'll be at the office tomorrow to help out, okay?'

'Perfectly fine, my dear.' and he smiled again as she kissed him, then turning away and heading for the garage, humming as he went.  
.-.-.-.

Clarice started as the phone sitting at her elbow trilled at her, she dropped the bagel that was in hand and grabbed for the phone. The display showed a local number, one unfamiliar to her, and she hesitated slightly as she flipped it open.

'Hello?' she asked, swallowing the bite she had just taken form the bagel.

'Clarice? Its Lindsey.' Clarice managed to get in a quick and surprised 'hi' before her caller continued on. 'Sorry I didn't call back yesterday, I was pretty busy. Look, I was wondering if you'd meet me today, if that works for you, of course.' Clarice's eyes lit up and she grabbed for a pen and paper.

'Sure, just give me a when and where.'

There was a pause, then 'About one, we can make lunch down on Pearl Street; I have some errands to get done down there anyway.'

Clarice was nodding, jotting the time and place down on her pad. 'Absolutely, Lin.'

'Great!' came the reply, 'I'll see you then, okay?' And before Clarice could make her farewells, the connection was cut, leaving her with a silent phone pressed against her ear. A frustrated sigh escaped her as she flipped the phone shut. She checked the clock, seeing she had about four hours to formulate her plan of attack, and to find out where Pearl Street was.  
.-.-.-.


	5. Chapter Five

_A/N- Not dead, just busy. Really. Thanks to Kurt for helping me get the ball rolling again (I've been re-reading 'Daddy's Girl' and the Erin series. I still can;t believe that you killed off Paul!). Here we go, dear readers._

_Chapter Five_

Lindsey stood in the downpour of the shower for the second time that day. Normally she didn't give it much thought, but it always seemed she was trying to wash something away. She never seemed to be clean, and she didn't really ponder whether it was a mental or spiritual thing. At the moment, it was a physical clean she was seeking, seeing as she'd just taken the dog for a run and had broken more of a sweat than she had expected. Sammie had seemed to notice her unease, and had begun keening at her once they were back inside the house, attaching himself to her leg and following her until she had shut him out of the bathroom. Sammie now lay in the hall like a sentinel, head resting on long forelegs stretched out in front of him, watching, waiting. Lindsey shut off the water and shook her head, reaching around the shower curtain to grab a towel. As she stood before the fogged mirror a few moments later, she stared, looking for any definition in the hidden image before her. There was no avoiding it now, she told herself, leaving the towel in a heap and heading for the bedroom.

As she searched through her wardrobe she wondered how she had survived just over a year ago. She had managed to secure a decent job within months after leaving the FBI, working as a consultant for a security firm. Working fifty hour weeks, traveling to make presentations, fighting deadlines- all had been her life, and she never considered much that she wasn't enjoying herself. Then, she began to get involved with Gregory. Somewhere between the deadlines, missed lunches, late nights and jet lag, something began to blossom. Gregory was the first to point out what even Lindsey's closest friends had not- she was simply not happy. Gregory had extended an offer, to give her what she wanted most- her own happiness. Within months of the offer, given over dinner one lat winter night, Lindsey had left her consulting position, sold her two bedroom condominium, and moved from Denver to Boulder. So far, Gregory had held true to his end of the bargain- she had found happiness; but she often found herself wondering, as she did now, what her end of the bargain was supposed to be.

- - -

The Mustang barely made headway as Clarice fluttered her foot on the gas for the umpteenth time, just adding enough power to keep the muscle car from stalling on her. For what also seemed the umpteenth time, she cruised down one of the streets bordering the Pearl Street pedestrian mall. Finally, someone pulled out ahead of her from a parking space, sparing her another lap. Clarice dgunned the engine, maneuvering her car into the spot before anyone else could consider taking it. Watching traffic now, looking for a break, she slid from the Mustang, grabbing her purse and briefly wondering if she should take the gun she had in the glove compartment. No, she wasn't here to apprehend Lindsey, only to talk to her her. Clarice had nothing more to base her suspicions on other than her instinct. The early afternoon air had definitely taken on more of a chill than it had had yesterday. Shrugging the windbreaker a little closer around her shoulders Starling set off towards the mall. Now it was a game of cat and mouse to find Lindsey, but Clarice was unsure of which role she was stepping into.

- - -

Former Special Agent Singleton watched through the pane of glass at Chico's as Clarice passed by. She looked like a woman with a mission, and a little lost. Lindsey had deliberately failed to give her former partner a specific spot within the mall to meet, trying to give herself some slight edge on Clarice. Lindsey turned her attention back on the sales clerk who was handing her back her credit card and a receipt for her purchases. As she gathered her bag and headed for the door Lin sighed, trying to brace herself. It seemed as she stepped into the cooler afternoon that her troubled lack of sleep was catching up to her. Exhaustion sagged her shoulders, and she recalled the thoughts that had kept her from truly sleeping last night. Inconceivable, she told herself, and pushed the darkness from her thoughts. She just had to prove Clarice wrong.  
.-.-.-.

Clarice was approaching her second lap around the mall, features tightening with each step. She sighed and turned her gaze heavenward, silently asking for some sort of intervention. It was only for a step, and her gaze was brought back down as she was jostled by a passing businessman in a wool overcoat. He muttered an apology that she barely caught, and her eyes followed him for a moment, glaring at his retreating back. Some people.

She was reaching in her purse for her cellphone when a familiar voice came from behind her. Clarice halted, looking for the voice. Coming form her right was Lindsey, all smiles and shopping bags. Jealousy was sour in Clarice's mouth. She had to work for a living, and Lindsey obviously did not any longer. Pushing the annoyance aside, Clarice plastered a smile on her face, heading over to meet the younger woman. They embraced awkwardly, due to Lindsey's bags. Lindsey led them off in the opposite direction Clarice had been heading, saying she needed to drop her bags at the car and then they'd get lunch at the Cheesecake Factory. Clarice followed docilely, kmaking light conversation about her flight in, her accommodation's, and the weather. AS the crowd moved around them, their voices were swallowed by ambient noise. A business man in a wool overcoat smiled to himself, watching the pair drift away from him.  
.-.-.-.

The pair walked back from Lindsey's car to the Cheesecake Factory for a lat lunch. As both women shared updates on what was going on with their lives, Clarice decided that today was not the right time to confront Lindsey. Her decision was confirmed when Lindsey spoke up at the end of the meal, while looking over the check.

'Gregory would like me to invite you for dinner tonight.' Lindsey looked down long enough to scrawl her signature on the indicated line, long enough for Clarice to blink and clear the unease from her face.

'I'd love to, it would be good to meet Gregory, since he seems to have made such an impact on your life.' Clarice smiled sweetly, Lindsey flashed a toothy smile at her as she slid the signed slip back into the check cover.

'He has, hasn't he? We'll see you around six, then. Here...' she pulled a hardbound notepad form her bag and scribbled on it, then tore the page from the pad and handed it to Clarice. 'Directions. Just park on the street in front of the house.' Lindsey smiled and hoisted her purse strap onto her shoulder, beginning to slide from her seat. 'It was great to see you again, Clarice. I've got to pick some things up and swing by Gregory's office, but I'll see you tonight, okay?' and with that, she was off, ponytail bouncing as she made her way towards the restaurant's entrance. Starling lingered a few moments longer, then slipped from the table as well, the note stuffed into a pocket. There was no sign of Singleton when she exited, but a man in overcoat and fedora tipped his hat to her as he passed by. Clarice didn't look forward to tonight's meeting with much eagerness. She briefly wondered if bringing her gun would be appropriate. No, a bottle of wine would be better, she decided, setting off to her car.  
.-.-.-.

Gregory was setting a pan on the stove when Lindsey appeared int eh entry to the kitchen, grocery bags in hand. He smiled as she pulled fresh bunches of herbs from the bag, setting them in a colander to wash. He stepped to her, and kissed her lightly on the cheek, nostrils flared. Remnants of the hug she'd shared with Clarice on Pearl Street. Lindsey had looked a bit uneasy there, playing hide and seek with the FBI agent. Obviously, Clarice's sudden arrival on holiday had her a bit on edge. The shopping bags he'd found in the bedroom was evidence enough of that, as shopping was her preferred method of therapy when she was off balance. Save it for later, he counseled himself, busying himself with the wrapped package on the counter.

Lindsey was washing the fresh rosemary and thyme under the faucet, looking up to him as she heard paper unwrapping. 'What are you making?' she shook the water off the herbs and set the aside, reaching for the faucet to shut it off. Gregory smiled pleasantly, 'Lamb chops.' Lindsey grimaced, and Gregory looked concerned. 'You don't like lamb, Lindsey?'

'No, its not... I like lamb just fine, Gregory, I just think Clarice may have a bit of an issue with it.' There was a patronizing sigh, and Lindsey blushed.

'Its too late now to go back and get something fresh, I suppose we could just do with what's in the freezer.' He began to rewrap the chops, when he felt Lindsey's hand on his wrist, stopping him.

'Don't. Lamb chops will be fine.  
.-.-.-.

Clarice stared up at the house, which was well lit on the drive and the porch. The lawn was trim, and hemmed with borders of neatly unruly flowers. She clutched her bottle of wine, recommended to her by the friendly woman who had run the shop she'd stopped into. With a deep breath she approached. On the porch she stared at the door, looking from the gleaming brass knocker to the doorbell. Which one? Doorbell, since she never felt comfortable using knockers. The tone was muted, and she heard a dog's bark in response to it. They have a dog? The evening was already beginning to surprise her. Lindsey appeared a few moments later, dressed, but not overly so, for dinner. Clarice felt out of place, wearing the nicest pair of slacks and a blouse she had brought with her. Lindsey was all smiles as she ushered Clarice in, holding a large black greyhound back. The dog made a lunge at Clarice as soon as she was over the threshold and the door was closed.

'Sammie, down!' Lin commanded, steel in her voice. The dog immediately halted and sank to the floor, looking up at his mistress guiltily. 'Let me take your coat, Clarice.' She hung it in the nearby closet, then turned back to Clarice, smiling. Clarice thought she looked like a damned Stepford Wife, and she figured that description wasn't far off the mark.

"I brought this.' Clarice offered the bottle of wine, attempting to smile. Her hostess looked over the label and nodded. 'Thank you, Clarice.'

Sammie was on his feet at the sound of footsteps in the hall behind Lindsey. Clarice was wide eyed, looking past her old friend at the figure approaching. No taller than Lindsey and imperiously thin, his black hair gleamed like pelt in the lamplight. He smiled pleasantly as he approached, but Clarice could see the wicked humor in his eyes.

_He's a cemetery mink._

In had turned, and smiled sweetly at him. 'Gregory, may I introduce Clarice Starling.'

Clarice extended her hand, slowly, and felt a shiver when Gregory took it. 'A pleasure, Special Agent Starling.' Clarice fought the impulse to jerk away, waiting for him to release her hand. 'If you ladies would follow me, I have cocktails waiting in the living room.' He winked at Clarice as Lindsey turned and he slid an arm around her waist. Starling prided herself on self-control, and tonight she was going to have to put all of it to use. She followed the couple, feeling off-balance and out of place.  
.-.-.-.

Three hours later, Clarice was back int eh cold sanctuary of her Mustang, looking at the house in the rear view mirrors as she pulled away. He'd served lamb chops for dinner, and Clarice would've sworn he was smirking as he served them onto her plate. What did she expect, however? For him to serve her the sweetbreads of some symphony member he'd taken a dislike to? He'd directed most of the dinner conversation, inquiring as to what her job was like, encouraging Lindsey to tell of her charitable forays. It was not unlike dinner with any other well-off couple. Starling had to grudgingly admit that they looked completely happy, and that Lindsey had never looked happier or more relaxed.

It didn't matter, though. She was harboring, however unknowingly, a known and dangerous fugitive. What would happen to her when he lost interest in her and his whimsy turned? Clarice wouldn't let that happen. As long as Hannibal Lecter were free, Clarice would not be able to forget the lambs. And she wouldn't sacrifice Lindsey to the monster.  
.-.-.-.


	6. Chapter Six

_Chapter Six_

'To your new office.' Lindsey tilted her head to the side slightly and saluted with her champagne flute, smiling as she did so. Gregory nodded, accepting her toast and raised his flute in kind.

'And to new beginnings.' he intoned, causing Lindsey to raise a brow at him as she sipped her champagne. He smiled and sipped from his, watching her in the late evening light. She turned away, looking around the half-furnished office. A veritable fortress of boxes stood atop the large desk, and more boxes sat in the shadows, their contents waiting to be unpacked and shelved away. The only other furniture in the room besides the desk were two oversize leather armchairs and a leather office chair behind the desk, the last also supporting a box or two. Low lighting came from sconces on the walls, along with the French doors that opened onto a private balcony.

'I like it, Gregory. It has a better atmosphere than you current office. More conducive, I think.' He inclined his head to her, accepting her praise. Lindsey walked to the door, looking out at the sinking sun. Gregory had been unusually quiet tonight, but staring out at the sun, she didn't mind right then. Gregory was watching her intently, and she seems unaware of the intensity of his gaze. She was beautiful right now, not any more so than any other time, but uniquely so with the sun lighting her face and hair. Auburn hair half pulled back, loose on her shoulders. The fabric of her blouse was light, and he could make out the outline of her bra underneath. She was a marvel to behold when she was naked. It had taken some time to ease her into being comfortable with her own skin, and he remembers with a smile how anxious she had been the first time she had permitted him to see her nude.

Ah, but that had only been one of the changes he had worked on her since meeting her. He'd worked slowly, gaining her acceptance and trust, slowly softening her to him, molding her to his desires. She'd been neither too soft nor too stiff, within her was the perfect balance of strength and and flexibility, what he needed for her to endure. And endure she had, and with just a little more polish his finished product would gleam.

He'd had the time to take with Lindsey, he thought, sipping his champagne. As of yet, there'd been no need for the _alternative_ methods he'd put to use in the past. She had a few less demons, and no illusions about saving the world from itself, even though she doggedly tried. And as he had done before, he had promised her what she had desired most. Her desire was happiness, something she'd been denied for far too long, and it surprised him slightly when he began to feel a slight joy in bringing it to her. Tonight, he would make his final adjustments, and would soon unveil his work to the world.

'Lindsey,' she turned away from the glass, champagne flute halfway to her lips, eyes curious. 'Please, have a seat.' She did as bid, sinking gracefully into one of the armchairs. Knowing he hated it, she resisted tucking her legs underneath her as she sat, opting instead to cross her ankles and relax. He smiled, came towards her, and set his own crystal flute on the small table occupying the space between the chairs. As she looked up at him, Gregory bent and kissed her forehead, gently, then straightened. He didn't sit as she expected, but walked towards the desk. She'd learned not to question, another accomplishment he was proud of. Behind the wall of boxes, he opened the middle drawer of the desk, withdrawing two items. The first was a key ring, which had two keys on it. This was slid noiselessly into his trouser pocket. The second item was a small leather valise. Laying it open on the desk, he withdrew a bottle and a syringe from it. While he hoped not to use it, it may prove necessary. This went into his other pocket. Smiling pleasantly, Gregory came back around the desk.

"I have something I'd like to ask of you.' He'd never done this before, he realized, never letting anyone come this close, except once. But then, there had been no need to ask such a simple question simply because of the situation, which hadn't required it. Lindsey watched him draw near, smiling, sipping champagne. 'Yes, Gregory?' she asked, giving him her permission.

He stopped in front of her, standing erect like a dancer, head tilted slightly to one side. It amused him that Lindsey unconsciously imitated him as she awaited the request. 'I'd like you to move in with me.' he said, the words feeling odd, but not unpleasant in his mouth. She blinked once, and set her champagne down on the table with a wide grin.

Her composure slipped for just a moment, 'You're serious?' and she saw his annoyance at her slip, but she didn't become meek. She stood and came to him. 'I'd be happy to, Gregory.' This, this was wonderful. The logical part of her mind reminded her that she had things to take care of before she could do so, but...

'I've already secured a Realtor to list your house, Lindsey, as well as arranging movers. Will two weeks form now suit you?'

A quick review of her mental calendar. 'Yes, that would be fine.' He smiled, allowing his glee to show.

'Wonderful.' He handed her the keys and she took them, looking at them carefully. She stepped forward and hugged him, completely willing when he engaged her in a lingering kiss. She loved it when h kissed her, it was so... Funny, she never found the words for it, could never describe the exuberance and happiness and fear that coursed through her.

When they parted she smiled at him, he gently brought her to her chair again, then busied himself with pouring her another glass of champagne. Two glasses wouldn't harm her. 'There's something else we might discuss, Lindsey.'

She looked at him curiously, eyes following him as he walked to the French doors and looked out. She was curious, and a bit afraid. Truth be told, that was a common reaction to Gregory. She adored him, but she would never admit that he made her just the slightest bit uneasy. It was as if he wasn't completely himself at times, but someone else, as if Gregory were just a persona he could take on and shed at will. It was silly, she always told herself, shoving the thoughts away where she kept all the things that made her uneasy.

He turned back to her, speaking softly. 'Sometimes, Lindsey, we do things that we'd rather not, upon later consideration.' He walked towards the bookshelves, behind the great armchairs. Lindsey pressed back in her chair, keeping him in view as much as she could. Great, she told herself, this is when he tells me he's still married and I'm his mistress. Even though she had seen enough to prove this contrary, she still wondered. There was something else, which was rustling in that dark corner of her mind, she tried to keep that door shut, trying to ignore its whispers.

He was behind her chair now, which forced her to either to sit improperly to see him, or to tilt her head back enough just to see his face loom white and dark above her. Storm dark eyes and red lips were all too serious.

'Lindsey,' he began again, 'I've done things in my past, things that were necessary at the time, but not excusable.' How much to reveal? How far to go? He wanted to keep her, she fit so nicely, she wasn't perfect, but, more than adequate. He saw concern, fear darken her eyes. Careful, now. Out of her sight, he hands worked to prepare the syringe, whose use seemed to be imminent.

Lindsey could here the whispers growing louder in her head, gaining strength, urging her to open the door and let them out. She knew the abyss that lay behind that door in her mind, and knew that if she looked into it now, she'd never come back to this moment, or to Gregory. She opened the door, looking into her nightmares.

'We all do what we have to do.' she murmured, still looking up at Gregory, her neck hurt form the angle, but she couldn't move at the moment. She clearly heard his breath in the silence.

'Lindsey, there are things you should know about me.'

The monster in the abyss loomed at her, and she stared, seeing him in her minds eye and before her. Why? Why was she doing this? It was her choice, and if she were to do right she would forfeit all she had gained.

Her eyes shut, she could feel the burning. Gregory reached around the chair, ready to take the moment, the hypodermic was hair fine, she'd never feel...

Lindsey slammed the door shut on the darkness, coming suddenly to her feet. She knew, but she didn't want to. If this was the price she had to pay, she would do it willingly. No one had to know.

'Whatever you were, or did, it doesn't matter to me. The past is the past, Gregory, leave it there.'

He was surprised, and it showed clearly. This... This was unexpected, certainly not unpleasant, but unexpected. Hands still out of sight form her he recapped the syringe and returned it to his pocket. He came to her swiftly, and bent his head to hers.

'You will not regret your decision, Lindsey.' he murmured softly before he consumed her.  
.-.-.-.

It was with great effort that Lindsey pulled herself from her memories. She thought it was like having a ladder in her stockings- one snag end everything had begun to unravel. She looked up, thinking, coming to a decision.

The house whispered in the winds of the approaching cold front, almost seeming to breathe with it. Soft footsteps in the upstairs hallway sounded soft above the wind, silenced by the carpet runner there. A loud creak, and everything silences, seconds held, counted, until both house and occupant breathe again. Footsteps on the staircase now, a shadow growing and announcing descent.

Lindsey gripped the banister tightly, feeling the polished wood beneath her palm. Wondering how many before her had come down these stairs, knowing with a bitter certainty that she'd been the only one to mount them with this mission in mind.

She kept the box in the hall closet, tucked high on the shelf, under other boxes of other items. The box had been up there for a year and a half, since she'd begun to share her life more intimately with Gregory. She opened the door, looking into the dimness and reaching upwards, coming up short. A quick retreat to the kitchen, returning with a folding stepladder. Carefully, up two steps and reaching through the other random objects that had collected there, seeking her box.

And she had it, heavy in her hands as she dropped back down to the floor, seating herself in a shaft of sunlight pouring through the door. As she removed the lid, Lindsey was still unsure of why she was doing this, but something urged her on.

There was a framed picture on top of the contents, her smiling with Clarice. Her stomach twinged, and she lifted the picture out and set it aside. Below that, a plaque, her FBI badge mounted, shining bright at her. That too went aside with the picture. Smaller things now, and her fingers burrowed knowingly to the bottom of the box.

There, she felt the taped grip and her fingers closed around it. Lindsey held her breath as she withdrew the .45 from the box. Once out, she stared at it, examining it. A trip in the late afternoon would tell her that it was still in good condition, and she would wonder as she stood on the range, whom she was trying to protect herself from.

Everything back in the box, the box back in the closet, the .45 snug in the small of her back. No one had to know.  
.-.-.-.


	7. Chapter Seven

_A/N- Slower than promised, but a chapter nonetheless. Enjoy._

_Chapter Seven_

'_What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us.'  
-Ralph Waldo Emerson  
.-.-.-._

Clarice had called about nine, suggesting they meet for lunch again. Gregory was still home at the time, and had amused himself by answering her call. After he had slightly addled Clarice, he handed the phone off to Lindsey, sitting at the table and sipping his coffee. Lindsey wandered out of his hearing range, but returned a few moments later to replace the phone in its cradle. She'd looked embarrassed when she asked him if she could postpone her day in the office until next week, seeing as Clarice wanted to have lunch again. Gregory acquiesced, seeing no harm in it. She'd smiled and thanked him, giving him a kiss before heading out for a run with Sammie. As Gregory sat her wondered what cards Clarice intended to play today. Surely her suspicions were confirmed last night. He'd been in retirement for quite some time now, finding life with Lindsey to be quite pleasant. But, as always, Clarice sought to take that away from him.

Looking into the inkwell of the coffee cup, he sought his own reflection. It was there, but he looked past it. There, was Clarice, warm in the firelight. Soft, peaches and cream, and he was before her. She had power over him, she knew it, and she used it to her advantage. How many times in the years afterwards did she regret not giving herself to him completely? How many times had he regretted that night, thinking he could change her. Between iron and silver, she remained.

He finished the coffee, and rose from the table. Cup in hand, he paused at the sink. He looked at it oddly, as if wishing for something. He began to lower it into the sink, then brought it up again. Gregory l;et the empty cup fall to the kitchen floor, where it broke, leaving pieces at his feet. Even now, it didn't come back together. Best to clean it before Lindsey arrived home again.

He was gone by the time Lindsey walked through the door, and found one black piece of coffee cup against the baseboard.  
.-.-.-.-

Lindsey sat in the comfortable womb of her car, in the dark garage, listening to the cooling engine and counting her breaths. Goddamn, Clarice. It was safe here, warm in the leather, but Lindsey felt decidedly unsafe. The door she had closed long ago had been pushed open again, and she found herself staring down the abyss. She wouldn't admit it to Starling, but a part of her had always known. Eventually, she removed herself from the car, trying to leave the monster there, behind her. Reluctantly she entered the kitchen, only to find him smiling at her there.

Gregory noticed his almost goddess looked pale and drawn. She waved off his concern, excusing it as some stomach bug or another. He offered to put away dinner, but she had told him not to, she would eat. He pulled out her chair for her, and bent close, brushing his lips against her cheek. There was a twitch, and she smelt of gunpowder. Clarice had told.  
.-.-.-.

Lindsey was in front of the dresser, bent at the waist, pulling open a drawer to remove a pair of silk pajama bottoms. She was clad only in her bra and panties as he entered the room. She looked up sideways at him and smiled, hands working as they found what she sought and she closed the drawer. She was still smiling as she straightened, as he took a slow breath.

Still smiling, as he took a step.

Still smiling as he forcefully grabbed her shoulders and pushed her backwards onto the bed. The smile slipped away sometime in her controlled fall. As he forced her back, her hands tightened around the pajama bottoms. He held her there on the bed while he freed the pajama bottoms from her grasp with the other hand. In one smooth motion they were gone, and he had roughly taken control of one wrist. It was only a matter of seconds, and fear had begun to mix with the surprise on her features. He released her shoulder, bending to grab her legs and swing them up on the bed. Now Gregory mounted the bed as well as Lindsey, trapping her beneath him. Knowing she was secure, he took her other hand and pinned both above her head. She stared up at him wide-eyed, mouth working.

'Gregory, aren't you playing a little rough?' she finally managed, voice quavery with fear as she attempted humor. Gregory adjusted his position and leaned closer to her, matching his gaze with hers. When he spoke, his voice had taken on a sharpness she'd never connected with him before.

'Tell me, Lindsey, what did Clarice tell you today?' She wiggled a little under him, and she took a moment too long to begin her answer. 'Don't lie, Lindsey, hmmm. I'll know.'

She stared and the words leapt from her like frightened rabbits. 'She said that you weren't who you said you were.'

'Who did she say I was?'

Lindsey licked her lips, he felt her pulse quicken and saw her chest rise and fall. 'Hannibal Lecter' she almost whispered. Dear god, it was happening all over again, she knew this along, and had chosen to ignore it. Just like she'd done before, but she didn't know if she'd survive this encounter.

'Ah.' was all he said.

Lindsey wiggled again, tried to pull her arms down. She had to try, escape, somehow. Gregory had her locked firm, however. Anger bubbled in her eyes. 'Gregory, let go, you're hurting me. Look, Clarice is insane, she's chasing ghosts and jumping at shadows.'

Gregory's lips curled into a predatory smile, showing small white teeth. 'Is she now? Not quite the opinion you once held of her.' Lindsey glared at him, but there was more than anger there, a glimmer of questioning sat in the edges of her eyes.

She tried reasoning. 'She's wrong. Completely off base. Gregory, I know you, I've lived with you, I've _loved_ you. If you had been that, that...' she shuddered.

'Monster.' Gregory supplied smoothly. 'Yes, I suppose some would call him a monster.'

Lindsey was hard again. 'He's killed... people.' No matter how she tried, her mind would not produce an accurate figure at this moment.

Gregory tilted her head, as if considering this. 'But he saved you, did he not?'

'I owe him nothing!' she exclaimed, eyes wide, indignation now. 'Let me go, Gregory. I'm not in the mood to play right now.' she twisted in his grasp causing him to shift his balance slightly, not enough for her to escape, merely enough to give her a little room for her struggles. Her wrists began to hint at pain like an indian burn as she twisted in his grasp. Gregory let it continue for a few moments then brought a swift end to it, tightening his grip on her wrists. A whimper tried to pass his lover's lips as she froze, eyes shining with fear and tears.

He leaned closer, his eyes bare inches from hers, noses close. He looked deep into her eyes, forcing her to look into his. 'Did you ever consider that Agent Starling might be _correct_ in her suspicions, Lindsey?' A pause, she held her breath. 'Did you consider why we are in our current position?'

'Gregory...' it was barely a whisper.

'No, Lindsey. Don't attempt to deny it, the knowledge has been there all along, you have merely chosen to ignore it in favor of having the life you wanted, of having happiness.' Closer now, whispering in her ear. 'Of having me.'

He felt her chest heave under him, a sob escaping her tears ran hot, down the sides of her cheeks. 'Oh, god...' He didn't respond, he pulled back, watching her from above again. The tears making paths along her pale skin, eyes fearful. He felt the flutter of her pulse in her wrists, a trapped hummingbird's wings. Silently he bent to her face, lips parted. She squeezed her eyes shut, sobbing quietly. His breath was warm and moist on her cheek. She flinched as his lips came in contact with her skin, and she stopped breathing altogether when she felt his tongue tasting her tears.

The man she once knew as Gregory Orbinson followed the curve of her face, trailing his tongue along the path of her tears. Slowly, ever so slowly, he worked his way along her neck, to her collarbone and the hollow there. He laid a kiss on this spot, then looked up at her. Through this process she had breathed again, and her pulse had slowed. Lindsey opened her eyes and looked at him, dark and sleek against her own skin.

'Lindsey, I would never harm you, do you understand?'

A moment, and realization opening a tiny bloom in her mind, she nodded, her lips forming the word 'Yes.' Something Clarice had told her while working together- Hannibal Lecter was a man true to his word.

He smiled, shifting position again and loosening his grasp on her wrists. Carefully, slowly, he brought her to a sitting position, taking both delicate wrists in one hand and supporting her back with the other. He kissed her palms, releasing them to her. Lindsey rested them on his shoulders, eyes still wet, unable to look away from him.

'I've always known.' she admitted in her own time, both to him and to herself. 'But you... You gave me everything I had always wanted, you made me feel worthy of myself. Worthy of being loved.' She blushed, 'I do owe you for that.' Lindsey thought of the night that now seemed so long ago in his office.

'_Lindsey, there are things you should know about me.'_

'_Whatever you were, or did, it doesn't matter to me. The past is the past, Gregory, leave it there.'_

He was, however, watching Clarice as she lifted the drop of Chateau d'Yquem from her glass, the cabochon aglow in the firelight. He blinked, and saw Lindsey now, steeped in the coming darkness of midnight, drying tears on her face as she bowed to the acceptance of who he was. In all this time he had tried to find someone to stand in for Clarice in his life. Could it be that there was someone else entirely instead of Clarice? Someone worthy of a place of her own?

'Yes.' came the answer, from his lips and hers, he had unknowingly voiced the questions aloud. She smiled softly, knowingly. Impulsively, she drew his his head in closer, guiding her lips to his. Admittedly, kissing him, and being kissed by him was something completely _other_. Hannibal didn't resist, succumbing to her and laying her back gently on the bed, never breaking his exploration of her. Tomorrow would be painful, much as tonight had been, but for now, there was pleasure to be taken.  
.-.-.-.

The house was strangely silent when Lindsey awoke in the morning. The bed felt larger than it ever had, and she knew, even before she acknowledged it, that he was gone. Tears burned her already sore eyes as she thought that everything had been for naught. She shivered as she climbed from bed, wearing nothing as she padded to the bathroom. The woman who stared back at her was no different than she had been before, physically, at least; with the exception of a deeply purpled bruise on her right breast. She touched it, staring at it both in the mirror and with her own eyes for a long time. She felt marked.

There was nothing to do, really. She'd acquiesced, accepted what she'd always known to be, and still, he was gone. Slipping on a pale pink housecoat, Lindsey Singleton emerged form the bathroom to tend to the day. Sammie went about his duties, as did she, but Lin felt as though she were simply going through the motions. Was she supposed to feel this hollow? After everything, he... She shook her head, feeling silly for repeating 'he's gone' over and over again. It wouldn't bring him back. She decided to forgo the coffee this morning, settling on tea. With steaming cup in hand she traversed the house, looking for any sign. It was spotless, as always. Not even a goodbye note marred any surface.

It was when she was pushing through his office that the phone rang. Sharp and sudden, it startled her. So much so, that her teacup escaped her grasp and shattered on the floor. Picking her way over the spreading liquid and porcelain shards she grabbed the phone off its cradle. 'Hello?' she asked cautiously, hope holding out against fear.

'Lindsey? It's Clarice.' Fear won.

'Oh, um, hi.' Lindsey stepped back, staring down at her mess. Sammie sniffed from the door, whining softly.

Clarice was talking again, Lindsey forced herself to listen. '...was wondering if you had thought about what we discussed yesterday. Could I come by today, perhaps?'

'He's gone.' she said, giving voice to the echoes in her head. 'He left sometime before I was awake. He's gone.' she repeated, staring at the teacup on the floor, wishing that she could reverse time. She had little idea that he had done the same before.

'I'm coming over, Lindsey, okay? Okay.'

Lindsey nodded. 'Okay. Bye.' and she cut the connection. She left the teacup mess where it was, walking out of the room and patting Sammie's side as she passed. 'C'mon' she told him, heading towards the linen closet with the idea of finding some towels to clean up her mess.

The tea was gone from the hardwood in his office, she had managed to mop it up with a towel, but porcelain still lay shattered. She picked a shard, holding it delicately. The edges were sharp, and Lindsey wasn't cautious enough. Blood welled in a straight line on her forefinger as she sucked in a breath, muttering a curse. She had band-aids in her office down the hall, and dropping the porcelain she went there.

Lindsey opened the door, letting Sammie nudge past her as she sucked on her wounded digit, blood coppery in her mouth. While his office had been restrained, hers was exuberant. Examples of her photography decorated the walls, bright colors and sweeping landscapes. Sammie went immediately to his large bed in one corner, as Lindsey pulled open a drawer and retrieved a band-aid. She blotted the cut with a Kleenex before applying the covering to the wound. Lindsey returned and sat in Gregory's chair, waiting for Clarice.  
.-.-.-.

Sammie was already at the door, barking and whining, as Lindsey came down the stairs. Nudging him out of the way with her hip, Lindsey opened the door to admit Clarice. Her visitor looked all business, and Sammie promptly interrupted her first words by leaping up and squarely plating his paws on her stomach as he barked exuberantly in her face. Score one for the dog, Lin thought, closing the door before admonishing him. Starling looked a bit perturbed, but got down to it immediately.

'Did he leave anything? A note of some sort?' She noted Singleton was still wearing a housecoat and hadn't brushed her hair. How late did she sleep in now? It didn't really occur to Clarice that it was barely after eight in the morning.

'No, nothing.' Lindsey responded, shaking her head and herding the dog towards the hallway. 'I woke up this morning, and he was gone.'

Clarice was trailing after Lindsey and the dog, looking around, taking everything in. 'Could anything have prompted this? Did you confront him?' Lindsey could hear the 'I told you not to' in her tone, and shook her head, rounding a corner into the kitchen.

'No, I didn't confront him, or accuse him.' She stopped and looked squarely at the FBI agent who was now in her kitchen. 'In fact, _he_ confronted _me_.'

This had Clarice's attention, and she froze, worry tightened the corners of her eyes. 'Are you okay?' Obviously she was, considering Lindsey was standing here talking with her. The monster hadn't eviscerated her or anything of that sort. Lindsey held out her wrists for inspection, which were reddened and looked a little puffy.

Standing there, wrists extended, she explained. It wasn't hard to sound frightened. 'He came up while I was getting ready for bed. He pinned me on the bed and... interrogated me, I guess. Asked me what you had told me yesterday.'

Clarice drew a breath, 'And you told him?'

'That you had insisted he wasn't Gregory Orbinson. That he was Hannibal Lecter.' the second name came out with a note of sour distaste. 'I argued that you were wrong, but...'

'But?'

A heavy sigh, Lindsey's features falling, she looked at the floor for a moment, then brought her gaze back to Clarice. 'But then, Starling, he told me the truth and you were right.' She sighed again, seeing again her world come down to its very foundations.

Clarice felt a surge of triumph, she did feel for Lindsey, having just lost the man whom she thought she loved, but she had to accept that... 'He's a monster, Lindsey. You did right.'

Lindsey shook her head, unsure of how 'right' the situation was. She was still lost. Clarice was taking charge, but she wasn't sure she was grateful for it.

Clarice came forward and gave her old partner a quick hug. 'You did right, understand that. I'll alert the FBI and we'll find him, put him back where he belongs.' _In a cage_, she told herself firmly. Before she could stop herself though, Clarice pressed a question she needed to have an answer to, something she knew would upset Lindsey. 'How did you live with him for so long? Didn't you realize? Did he ever drug you, brainwash you?' she remembered her own experience, or more accurately, what she had been told once she had gone through numerous therapy sessions courtesy of the Bureau. Something was always still missing, she felt and knew, and one day, she'd stumble on the right note to trigger it.

Lindsey's eyes flashed indignation. 'No, Clarice, I was never drugged or brainwashed.' _Unlike you_, she thought quietly. 'Gregory, Hannibal, whoever he was, was nothing but pleasant to me and gave me what I had always wanted.'

Ah, the promise. Clarice's goal had been advancement, what had been Lindsey's that the monster gave her? 'And that was?'

'Happiness. Something I don't think you know, Agent Starling.' Singleton's voice was cold, annoyed with Starling's final questions. 'If you would, kindly leave. You can contact the FBI and get your manhunt rolling, but please, just leave. I need to be by myself right now. I assure you I won't touch anything in the house except what is mine.'

Clarice wavered for a moment, balancing the the thought of leaving Lindsey alone here. No, she decided, she had no reason to protect Dr. Lecter, seeing as he had just abandoned her to the FBI. Clarice nodded slowly and took her leave, hearing Lindsey's bare feet pad the floor behind her, escorting her to the door.

'I'll tell hem that you had no idea, I'll help you.' Clarice told her as she stepped through the door. 'We'll get through this, Lin.'

Lin nodded curtly and managed a hard 'Thank you.' and then the door was closed. Clarice walked down the porch steps, down the walk to where her rental sat at the curb.

Lindsey turned and rested against the door, the tears came first, then the choking sobs. She slid down, sitting haphazardly on the floor, crying. A few hours later Lindsey had found purpose again, and even when the tears threatened, she'd be damned if she would cry for herself anymore.  
.-.-.-.


	8. Chapter Eight

_A/N- Short chappie- now with a correction! (Jane Morricone is the reporter, Petra Morricone is her daughter. I didn't even notice until I had read Kurt's review. I'm losing my touch, time to enlist a beta?) We've entered the busy-busy-busy time of year for me, so I'm a little strapped for time. I will finish the story (hopefully before the year is out). Thanks for hanging in there, dear readers._

_Chapter Eight_

Lindsey began packing the car about two that afternoon. She was careful to pack only things she knew she had owned prior to moving in with Gregory or that she had bought with own checking and credit accounts. There were things she would have to leave, like Sammie's crate, which, even collapsed, would never fit into the Mustang. Sammie occupied the entire backseat himself, causing Lindsey to become creative with her packing. Somewhere in the depths of her closet she found one of her old purses, and she threw her wallet in there, along with the other things she normally carried. A row of expensive designer purses sat on the king size bed. She didn't want to risk anything.

She'd changed from her pink housecoat into a pair of well worn jeans and a faded tee shirt. Sammie looked confused when she didn't take the house keys with her as she led him out the front door. She held his leash as she armed the alarm system, then pulled the door shut behind her. Her eyes were hard and sad when she looked back at the house's facade. She'd call Clarice in a bit, once she stopped off and got herself a new wireless plan, planning to turn the old phone over to the FBI, since Gregory carried her on his plan, but she needed to be able to communicate for now. She wasn't running, she just had to distance herself right now. A call into a Realtor was also on the list, to secure herself a condo or a townhome until this blew over.

The black Cobra hunkered in the driveway, looking completely unlike a car packed full of one woman's life. Two hours after she had begun, she tossed her box from the hall closet into the passenger seat while she held the door open for the greyhound. Sammie hopped in the backseat, nosing the passenger side window as she moved that seat all the way forward to give him a little more room. His muzzle appeared out the window as she backed out the drive. Her window was down as well, wind whipping her auburn hair around her face and out behind her. She was preoccupied behind her sunglasses, and didn't see the older model Nissan sitting at the corner, a photographer watching her, snapping her picture as she rolled up to, then sped away from, the stop sign. He would earn a goodly sum for the picture, and her likeness would be on the Thursday evening edition of the _Tattler_.  
.-.-.-.

Clarice stood outside in the sunshine, looking up at the late sun reflecting off the federal building. She'd marched right into the Denver office and told them her news. After a brief moment of doubt from the SAIC, they'd rung the bells in Washington. Now Clarice was standing as the head of a newly formed task force. It crossed her mind, there in the sunlight, that Crawford would've been proud of her. Her father never entered her thoughts.

She was looking at street level now, watching people filter by, unaware of what was happening under their noses. Her gaze stopped and settled on a small framed, black haired woman who was coming in her direction. A drop of foreboding soured Starling's stomach.

'Agent Starling!' the woman called once a little nearer. Clarice tried to turn, even to look away, but she stood, rooted, watching the woman approach. Some people around them looked up as she waved and called out again. She stopped within a chummy distance of Starling and beamed brighter. 'Hi, Agent Starling.'

The corner's of Clarice's lips turned down, and her nose wrinkled as if she'd just smelled something unpleasant. If the woman noticed, she gave no indication. Clarice took the moment and looked her over- shoulder length hair, perfectly coiffed, smart grey suit, and the large black purse hanging from her shoulder. Clarice would've been happier to never see this woman again. 'Ms. Morricone.' she allowed. 'Can I help you with something?'

Jane Morricone had long since mastered the art of the poker face, although she relied upon her easy smile to fool and disarm people. That, and playing a little dumb never hurt either. For some reason, people always thought the pretty ones had the intelligence of a kidney bean. 'Whatcha doing in Denver?'

'Vacationing.'

Jane nodded and smiled. 'Visiting your old pal, Ex-Special Agent Lindsey Singleton, I suppose?'

Clarice held back a heavy sigh. God, she was just fodder for the tabloids, wasn't she? Didn't Hollywood produce enough stars for them to hound and just leave her alone? 'Yes. What are you doing here, Ms. Morricone?'

'Oh, I work here. The _Tattler_ opened up a Rocky Mountain office about a year ago.'

_Of course_, thought Clarice. She looked at her watch, then glanced back towards the building. "I have to go, Ms. Morricone. Goodbye.'

Jane's smile quirked. 'Vacationing at the FBI office?'

Politic, Clarice reminded herself. 'They knew I was here and asked for my assistance with something, I was happy to oblige. Now, if you'll excuse me.' Clarice made it no more than four steps before Jane spoke up.

'Would it have anything to do with Hannibal the Cannibal?' Clarice stopped dead, slowly turning back to see Jane smiling like the cat who was fat on cream. Jane nodded and shoved a tape recorder in her purse. 'Thank you, Agent Starling.' and she was walking away, leaving Starling there, quietly cursing herself. Clarice watched the shadows grow for a few minutes before turning back to the building. Fortunately for her, someone inside had also gotten their bell rung by another _Tattler_ reporter. The first meeting of her task force started off sourly. By eight o'clock that evening, Starling's black mood would only grow worse.  
.-.-.-.


	9. Chapter Nine

_A/N- It has been a long time coming, hasn't it? I fell off the writing truck for a couple good years, and I am now finding my way back. Please pardon me as I get the old mind back in gear and re-acquaint myself with some old friends and dinner companions. _

_Chapter Nine_

Taisa Keller crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the cream colored wall. The conference room was packed, the higher-ups sitting around the large table as the lowly folk, like herself, stood behind them, all with their serious faces and thinking caps on. The afternoon's news had been exciting and troublesome. _The_ Special Agent Clarice Starling was looking like the cat who got the cream and was waiting on the canary as she sat at the head of the table, on the right hand of the SAIC of the Denver office. Taisa had been a little surprised to find out that it was her friend Lindsey who had found herself in this mess, but kept that to herself. In fact, Taisa snuck a glance at her watch, Lindsey should be arriving any minute to face this crowd. She straightened and slipped from the conference room, the SAIC never noticing as he continued to go on about how dangerous a man Dr. Hannibal Lecter was.

Taisa emerged from the building as a tired looking Lindsey Singleton walked up towards the doors. A wan smile crossed her face as she caught sight of her friend. Since she had packed and left her day had consisted of going from one store or office to another. Sammie had been relieved of the tedium by being left at a doggy daycare center back in Boulder. While she might have to be subjected to the drive and spending hours in Denver, the poor mutt shouldn't be. Lindsey greeted Taisa with a hug, and when released looked her friend in the eyes.

'So, I guess you know.' Taisa nodded and Lindsey sighed. 'Jesus.'

'Truly.' Agreed Taisa. 'Y'know, Lin, you wouldn't keep getting into these messes if you would just stop putting ads in the paper saying 'SWF seeks SWM serial killer for life partner.' I mean, seriously, just go and meet an investment banker or a CEO for once.' Taisa's lips remained set in a straight line, but her eyes glinted with dark humor. Lindsey couldn't help but laugh.

'Yeah, but I'm afraid the CEOs and bankers would be worse. I mean, at least I know what a serial killer is out doing when he comes home late from the office.' Her own words took a moment to hit her and Lindsey winced. _Is that the way I really think about these things?_ It was Taisa's turn to laugh.

'God, you're twisted. I taught you well.' She glanced around the sidewalks and street in front of the building as Lindsey's face went blank again. 'C'mon, let's get inside before you get ambushed by a lurking reporter.'

Lindsey looked sideways at Taisa as they walked towards the doors. 'Oh?'

Taisa held the door open for Lindsey, letting her step through as she responded. 'Yeah, a couple agents got jumped. The esteemed Clarice Starling got ambushed a couple hours after she showed up here, and some desk weenie made the mistake of bragging about the impending case to another agent while on a smoke break. Loose lips sink agents, or so they say. Betcha he'll be working in the mail room by tomorrow.' Taisa waved Lindsey off so she could suffer the indignities of a metal detector and being wanded, as the agent spending his evening there got to find out she was wearing an underwire bra. A few minutes later, and another stop to get Lin a visitor's badge, and the women were in the elevator, rising to Lindsey's impending interrogation.

'There's something else you won't like.' Taisa told her.

'What?' asked Lin, wondering what could make this worse than it already was. The elevator dinged its arrival on their floor and Lindsey followed a silent Taisa down the halls to her cubbyhole of an office, aware of all the people staring at her as she passed. Taisa was mute as she handed Lindsey a folded newspaper, not meeting her friend's eyes. Lindsey unfolded it and saw her picture gracing the front of the _Tattler_, under the bold imprint that read 'DOES THE BEAST HAVE A NEW BEAUTY?'

Lindsey crumpled the tabloid and threw it at the wastebasket beside Taisa's desk. 'Fuck.'

'Tell me about it.' Taisa nodded. They stood there for a few moments in silence, until Lin finally sighed and ran her hands back through her hair. 'Ready for me to deliver you to the lions?' asked Taisa, looking at Lindsey. Lindsey managed something of a smile and waved a hand at the door.

'Lead on.'  
.-.-.-.-.

About the same time Lindsey was beginning her walk towards the conference room someone else was walking from their office across town, looking forward to an evening at home. Hopefully relaxing with a nice glass of whatever liquor was left in the house. Having thrown a dinner party for her few friends the previous weekend had pretty much wiped out the small bar stock she had, and she wasn't in the mood to visit the liquor store on the way home. She was petite and pale, with shoulder length black hair, caught back in a gold barrette. She flipped a wave at the receptionist, and had barely made it two steps out the doors of the company's lobby before the phone began to ring.

Petra Morricone sighed and dug in her purse for the mobile, which continued to ring, playing the theme from James Bond. She flipped it open without looking at the number as she rang for the elevator, pressing the device to her ear. 'Hello?'

'Hello, Petra.' Came a smooth voice, one which made Petra's eyes widen as she struggled for composure. The elevator arrived at the moment when she remembered to breathe, and she stepped inside, stabbing at the door close button before speaking.

'Dr. Lecter.' It came out in a near whisper, as startled as she was.

She could hear the smile in his voice, laced with something else. _Sadness?_ 'Yes, Petra. I need your help with something, if you would oblige.' Petra didn't hesitate. It was through his benefit that she was where she was today, he had seen her through her years of graduate school and had helped with her job placement, under his assumed guise of Dr. Gregory Orbinson.

'Whatever I can do to help.' She found herself telling him as the elevator reached the main floor and she stepped out, quickly across the buildings lobby and out into the parking lot. It was fairly deserted, and she dug for her keys and watched as her car winked its lights back at her as she thumbed the key fob. 'What's up?'

That earned her a chuckle. 'I take it you haven't spoken to your mother or have been home to see the evening news, Petra?' She was shaking her head, shivering as a cold gust came up.

'No, not yet. I just got out of the office. Why?' she was a little worried now. Her mother was involved somehow, that much she knew now, and when Jane was involved, it was usually not a good thing.

'Special Agent Starling has paid me a little visit, and has subsequently reported my presence and identity to the proper authorities. Petra, I need you to secure my documents for me, and for Lindsey.' Petra's willingness to help cooled when she heard Lindsey's name. She despised that woman, especially for the embarrassment she had caused her back in Colorado Springs.

'For Lindsey?' she asked, none too happy in her tone of voice.

'Yes, Petra, Lindsey will need the proper documents and identification materials. She will be coming with me.' He waited patiently through Petra's silence and eventual sigh of resignation.

'Fine. I'll get them.'

'Quickly, please.'

Petra rolled her eyes, glad that the doctor could not see that. 'Yes, of course. I'll call you. At this number?' she thought to ask, realizing that if he were once more hiding from the authorities calling him on his old number or at the house would not be a wise idea.

'Yes, Petra. I look forward to hearing from you soon. Goodbye.'

'Bye.' she muttered into the phone, standing by her car door. She opened the door and slid into the driver's seat. She didn't mind doing these things for him, but for _her_? Petra decided that she might be happier doing it for Starling. At least Starling hadn't tackled and handcuffed her. Petra pushed the thoughts aside with a force of will, trying to focus on what she needed to do. Call her guy, first off. Ex-CIA, worked in their documents department, he could produce the best documents money could buy. To the bank in the morning, then, and a visit to the safe deposit box. Work would have to deal with her impromptu vacation for a few days and survive without her.  
.-.-.-.

Taisa and Lindsey walked down the hallway to the conference room just as the agents not key to the case were released. They all filed past, silent, looking at her but not meeting Lindsey's eyes. Lindsey looked hard at each who passed. People whom she had worked with just a few years ago were now giving her the look of a fallen agent. A look she had received before while back east, after returning from the hospital and her encounter with Jacob. When the majority were out of the way Lindsey moved ahead again, Taisa falling in step beside her. SAIC Loren was standing by the door, half-heartedly offering Lindsey a smile and a limp handshake.

'Ms. Singleton. I'm sorry we had to meet again in under these circumstances.'

'So am I.'

'Agent Keller, you won't be needed. Why don't you head home, we've got a big day ahead of us tomorrow.' Taisa nodded and gave Lindsey's shoulder a squeeze before walking away. Lindsey felt as if she'd just lost the only person who might have even remotely been on her side. 'Come on in and have a seat and we'll get this thing started.' Trevor Loren told her, stepping aside so Lindsey could enter the room. She saw the lone empty chair set at the opposite end of the table with the senior agents all staring at her as she took her seat. Loren went to the opposite end and cleared his throat, seating himself next to Starling.

'This is completely informal, Ms. Singleton. Just relax and tell us what happened.'

So Lindsey did, recounting in a flat voice the same story she had told Clarice that morning. Turning over her old cell phone, the single item she had taken with her that could be connected to him, and trying hard to keep her composure. She almost lost it, but not for the reason she expected, when one of the senior agents spoke up after she finished.

'Ms. Singleton, I have to ask, how did you let this happen?' he sounded incredulous, as if he couldn't believe that a formerly sworn agent could let herself be duped as she was. Clarice actually shook her head at the questioner, who caught on a moment too late. Lindsey glared. She knew this guy, had been going through a divorce when she was still an agent. What was the reason for the divorce...

'Sir, are you married?' He shook his balding head, and Lindsey went on. 'You divorced then?'

'Yes.'

'May I ask why?'

Balding took a deep breath, knowing that even though all the agents in this room, save Satrling, already knew the reason he didn't want to admit it aloud. 'She was having an affair.'

Lindsey nodded. 'How long did it go on before the divorce?'

'About a year.'

'Did you ask for the divorce?'

'No, she did.'

'Why? Weren't you angry with her? With yourself?'

Balding had the sense to look angry. 'Yes, but I don't see what this has to do with...'He was looking away, looking at SAIC Loren to stop Singleton fomr questioning him. Clarice looked down at Lindsey, with an awful knowing that she knew what this had to do with Lecter. She'd be damned if she'd admit it to anyone, though.

'Everything. You ignored her infidelities because you loved her, and you thought that if you loved her enough, then everything would turn out just fine.' He stared at her in disbelief, but Lindsey knew she had hit her mark. 'You did love her.' she said quietly.

Balding nodded. 'Yes.' He looked down at the table.

Lindsey looked pointedly at Clarice, daring her s\to argue, because she knew she could turn the blade on her just as easily. 'Exactly. I loved Gregory Orbinson, that's how I let myself be duped, Agent Harrison.'

Clarice looked angry as she turned from Lindsey to SAIC Loren. 'I think we've heard enough for now, sir. We can bring Ms. Singleton back in if we need to later, but its getting late.' Loren nodded his agreement.

'Okay, Ms. Singleton, you're free to go home to Boulder tonight, but you will leave your numbers and where you are staying with us so that we can reach you. This is a pending and ongoing investigation that you are a part of, so I ask that you do not leave the state until it's been closed. Understood?' Lindsey nodded mutely, angry because she had let herself get needled by Harrison, and because now Loren was giving her the spiel to stay put. Where the hell would she be going anyway? She didn't even know where Gregory (_Lecter_, she reminded herself) had gone to, or if he was even in the area. 'And you'll let us know if you are contacted by Lecter. Immediately, Lindsey.' She nodded again. Right, he was probably in Argentina by now, under a new identity and laughing it up at the feds. As if he'd be worried about little old her. He'd left Clarice behind with just as much ease.

The agents were rising and filing out of the room. Lindsey noted as she pulled her purse strap over her shoulder that Starling and Loren were have a quick whispered discussion. Loren looked over at her and nodded to Clarice. Clarice was nodding, and then stepping away. 'Lindsey, I'll walk you out to your car.' Having no choice Lindsey shrugged, and headed out the door, forcing Starling to catch up to her. The rode the elevator down to the lobby in silence, and continued that way until they were in the parking garage a couple blocks away where Lindsey had left the Cobra. Lindsey thumbed the key fob and the car's lights flashed back at her. She had just laid her hand on the door handle, turning slightly to face Clarice. 'Goodnight, thanks for walking me to my car. I'll...'

Clarice cut her off. 'It wasn't like that.'

Lindsey looked puzzled, enough that she let go of the door handle. 'What?'

'Lecter. I didn't love him. He brainwashed me, Lindsey, I was a plaything to him. I may have done things during that time, I may have gone to rescue him from Verger, but it was not because I loved him.' It surprised Clarice how hard her voice was, and that there was a little pain inside as she said what she did.

Lindsey stared at her. 'I... I never said you did, Clarice.' Clarice nodded.

'Okay then.'

Lindsey began to open the door and Clarice turned away, about to walk away when Lindsey's voice stopped her.

'But he loved you.' Clarice turned slowly as Lindsey lowered herself into the driver's seat. 'Goodnight, Clarice.' and she shut the door. Clarice stood there, stunned, trying to refuse what had been said. Lindsey backed out and drive away, leaving Clarice alone with her thoughts.

Why did that hurt even more than her denial of him?  
.-.-.-.


End file.
